In the Belly of Jonah Read Online Free PDF Page A

were smooth and round after decades of being polished by whitewater rapids spilling from the peaks of the Rockies and varied in shades of gray, dark brown, and black. If the victim had been in the dark waters and dragged onto the beach, the pebbles around her would be much darker than the surrounding dry areas. Darkened by water, blood, and bodily fluids. And if the killer had carved out a chunk of the girl in the shallow waters, they should have found some remnants, even if the fish had chummed for a few hours before the girl was found. The waters were still and little would have washed away in that short a time.
    “Was she found naked?” Streeter asked.
    “Nope. She was wearing a dress and shoes.”
    “Can you get water samples from her clothes to compare to the reservoir?”
    “Well, that’s the thing. Her hair was damp, but her clothes and shoes were dry.”
    “He dressed her after she was in the water?”
    “Seems so.”
    Streeter’s mind processed all the information he had assimilated. He flipped back through his notebook. “So, he cut her torso after she was out of the water?”
    “Don’t think so. Not based on the area around her. The rocks were pretty clean, like I said, except for the blood that trickled from her. She had to have been cut while she was in the water,” Brandt concluded.
    Still flipping through his notes, Streeter’s eyes landed on the first note he wrote. “If she was sliced up in the water, dragged back up on shore, and dressed afterward, then how did the fisherman see the window through the girl?”
    Brandt slurped what Streeter imagined was a hot cup of coffee. “That’s the thing. The dress had been cut to mimic the torso. Looks like a carpet knife or something crude.”
    “The killer took the time to drag the victim back on shore, dry her off, dress her, and cut the dress to shape only to leave her propped by the water’s edge?” Streeter summarized. “That’s just weird.”
    “It gets weirder,” Brandt said. “Remember, he moved the cabinets between her and the water, placed a bottle on one of the cabinets, and then wrapped her face in a piece of cloth.”
    “Why? Was her face bruised? Cut?”
    “Nope,” Brandt said. “And as far as the why, you tell me? The perp’s insane.”
    “Very meticulous, prepared, organized. Mind if I get the BU involved?”
    “BU?” Brandt asked.
    “Behavioral unit out of D.C. They might be able to help if you’d like,” Streeter suggested.
    “Are you trying to pull rank on me, Pierce?” Streeter was about to protest when Brandt added, “Because I’d welcome the intrusion. Just don’t tell the chief I said so.”

THEY FOUND JILL.
    The newsboy’s perfect aim at my front door alerted me to the morning paper at precisely 5:50 am, just as I was getting the milk for my cereal.
    The Coloradoan headlines read “CSU Student Found Dead.”
    I almost choked on my Rice Chex.
    Two small pictures of Jill—one taken as a studio portrait, the other in her CSU basketball uniform—underscored the large picture of the crime scene. The photo was of Horsetooth Reservoir as seen from the road that winds along the south side. Crime tape in the foreground blockaded the south beach. Dozens of criminalists, police, and emergency personnel huddled east of the dock area. Dozens more crowded the cars stacked along the roads to the east and west overlooking the gruesome scene. Everyone in the photo was watching a tall form on a gurney being carried to an ambulance.
    A blanket draped the form. No flesh uncovered. No rush.
    The story was even more sickening than the initial shock of Jill’s death. She had been butchered on the south beach sometime during the night. A fisherman had found her around nine o’clock yesterday morning when he returned with his early morning catch. That was about the time the detective had been interviewing Joe and me up at the office. No wonder he had left so abruptly.
    The fisherman had left before dawn, as did three other